The morning sun lifts above distant mountains,
futile against the strange cold of this September day,
sun’s rays impotent, unfelt in the fog-shrouded valley,
as we pine for the normal warmth of early fall.

There is certainty, as with all things nature, of change,
a return to the normal warmth from that same sun,
another day or weeks before the turning of seasons
brings the nipping morning chill in late autumn.

So it is with our search for constant Source.
Source remains a constant.
Only our degree of receptivity stands altered
by creeping mind fog obstructing its path.

Gus Daum

September 2014


About degus221

A Kansan who has migrated to Oregon.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to RISING SUN

  1. Like the use of fog.


  2. Ann Douglas says:

    You’re quite the poet, Gus! Very nice.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. C Ford says:

    Would enjoy the September sun this time of year:)

    Liked by 1 person

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